


Phobic

by brandywine421



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 19:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1277392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandywine421/pseuds/brandywine421
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has irrational fears, here are a few of Captain America's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phobic

**Author's Note:**

> In my headcanon, Cap's afraid of nuns. Whilst googling the term for that, these drabbles happened. It turned out fluffier than expected.

**Sphenisciphobia**

"I don't like nuns," Steve says, breaking the silence.

Tony is trying to get into this teamwork thing and considering the drama that both he and Cap have gone through over the past few years solo; it seems like a better idea than it did at first.

The weekly lunches are habit by now, even if they still consist of mostly small talk.

"Okay," Tony replies.  He spots the cluster of Sisters walking past the café.  Considering Steve's pallor and tense eyes following the ladies, he wonders what he's missing.  "I thought you were a good Catholic boy."

"There's no such thing," Steve replies, finally focusing on the conversation now that the women were out of sight.

"Want to talk about it?" Tony asks when the man doesn't continue.

"It's only fair we know each other's weaknesses.  I don't mind priests, but nuns, I just can't deal with them," Steve says.  He pokes at his food, only his second plate, barely an appetizer.  "I loved my Mom and she loved me.  The sisters didn't.  They said God loved me, like that was supposed to be enough.  Sister Helga said the reason prayer wouldn't help with my asthma was because God was teaching me to be tough.  You can't hate Nuns, it's sacrilege, but I'm allowed to not like them."

"I don't know if that will ever affect us in battle, but I'll definitely keep it in mind," Tony says.

"It was a long time ago, I'm sure things are different now but no matter what body I'm wearing, they still make me feel like a little runt who doesn't know how to pray correctly," Steve mutters.

Tony wants to laugh, he wants to tell Steve how ridiculous it is that the squeaky clean superhero hates the squeaky clean Sisters; but he doesn't think Steve would appreciate it.  But he needs to say something.  "My parents were never religious.  I went to my first mass with Pepper.  She made me go to confession once but the priest had a panic attack before I could get through my adolescence.  She was pissed for weeks."

Steve smiles.  "Your dad used to make fun of me.  He was the most blasphemous man I ever met, and I was in the army and in the streets before that.  But when Bucky died, he went with me to the chapel, paid a priest instead of using the army's chaplain.  I had to carry him out because he drank a fifth of gin while I was praying."

Tony snorts despite himself.  "He never drank gin.  I never considered why."

"I know you don't like to talk, or think, about him but I know he had no love for Bucky.  But he was there for me than night.  Maybe he wanted to protect his experiment, but it doesn't matter because it meant something to me," Steve says quietly.

"He wasn't the same man, not after you went down.  I can accept that if you can," Tony replies.

"I do.  You're a much better friend than he was," Steve says.  "You want to put on your suit and play Frisbee?"

Tony raises an eyebrow.  "With the shield?"

Steve grins.

"Get in the car."

 

**Hygrophobia**

"What's up with Cap?" Clint whispers, watching Steve from the corner of his eye as the man stripped off his boots and pulled off at least three pairs of socks.

"He doesn't like to get his feet wet," Natasha answers without looking away from the controls of the jet.

Clint doesn't ask her how she knows, Natasha knows everything.  He's known her for years but it never stops being creepy.

"Trench foot," Tony says distractedly.  Thor and Bruce are staring openly at Cap as he dries his toes individually and pulls several socks out of his backpack.  "Saw a few guys lose their digits."

"I had to saw Fritz's foot off.  Medics were busy with triage and it had to come off.  He didn't even scream, he didn't have any sensation down there," Steve says.  Superhearing, of course.

"Did he make it?" Bruce asks, his face dark with understanding.

"Don't know, we had another mission and then I was dead," Steve replies absently, rolling on fresh socks.

"Santa brought him three sets of waterproof boots for Christmas, but we had the radioactive centipedes and the corrosive oil-spitting rodents so these are his last pair.  I'm sending Richards a reorder request," Tony says.

"Thanks.  So _gross_ ," Steve sighs when he's satisfied his feet are safe.

"I bet you brush after every meal," Clint theorizes.

"Is that some new rule I haven't heard about?" Steve frowns, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"Your teeth are fine, Cap, you did a Colgate commercial last month," Natasha says.

"That was for toothpaste?  Huh.  Then why did I need my shirt off?" Steve asks.

"For America, Steve.  For _America_ ," Tony grins.

 

**Lyssophobia**

"How is he?" Bruce asks, stepping into the observation room.  Natasha jumps, a sign of how shaken she is by Cap's fall.

"Fucking magic," she whispers, turning her attention back to where Steve turns his head back and forth, trapped in his mind.

"It's supposed to wear off, it shouldn't be long now," Bruce says, carefully putting a hand on her shoulder.  She deflates slightly but doesn't pull away.

"It's too long.  He's been like that too long," she whispers.

"He's tough, Natasha," Bruce reassures her.

She shakes her head.  "Not for this.  He wasn't trained for this and he's - he worries he's crazy already, this is going to make it worse."

"What do you mean?" Bruce knows the spy and the Cap are close but there's something else behind her words.

"Sometimes he thinks he's insane," she says finally.  "He gets up in the middle of the night and just stares at himself in the window.  I'll find him naming the streets and mapping the city, like it's not real.  He asks me, at least twice a week, if I'm real."

"I thought he was adjusting better."

"He is.  God, he'd kill me if he knew I was talking about it but…I don't want to lose him.  Not like this.  I want him to wake up and look at me and see _me_ , not her," Natasha murmurs.

Natasha and Steve are definitely closer than he thought.  "Hey.  He's going to wake up and you're going to be right there to tell him when and where he is and he'll come back to us.  To you," he adds softly.  "As long as he has things to fight for, he's going to come back."

She nods but doesn't look away from Steve's restless body.

"Don't lose hope yet, Natasha.  Have faith."

She frowns at him.  "Are you the one that turned him on to George Michael?"

Bruce laughs in surprise, shaking his head.  "Not it."

 

**Pteronophobia**  
  
"Don't - he'll kick your ass," Clint barks when Tony smirks wickedly toward Steve who has broken the golden rule of falling asleep with his shoes on in the common area.    
  
Tony feigns a pout and puts away the marker.  Then he pulls out a feather on a stick, a cat toy.  
  
"Why do you even have that?"  
  
"Why not?" Tony shrugs.  "It'll keep me out of reach and annoy the hell out of Cap.  He earned it after today."  
  
"He's not the only one to fault for today's hot mess," Clint replies.  Tony and Cap were mercurial, bantering like best friends one day and arch enemies the next.  It didn't usually carry over on the field but today was an exception.  He's not sure it's a good night for Tony to prank Steve.  
  
"We already kissed and made up on the scene," Tony says, sliding over to the couch in socked feet and dangling the feather over Steve's face.  "Tickle tickle…"  
  
Steve's hand shoots up immediately, snatching the stick and launching himself over the back of the couch.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Tony whispers when he recovers from the shock of Steve flattening himself against the floor and shaking.  
  
"Told you not to do it," Clint sing-songs.  
  
"It was just a joke, Cap," Tony hesitates.  Clint notices that Steve doesn't answer and he doesn't get up.  Tony leans down to check on him and Clint joins him for damage control.  
  
Steve's eyes are wild and search the room, the wooden stick still splintered in his hand and Clint knows a panic attack when he sees one.  
  
"Feathers, too?  You have a ton of issues, Cap, you are totally helping my self-esteem right now," Tony says in a low, calming voice as he snaps the feather off the string and carefully tugs the wood out of his grasp.  
  
Clint whistles sharply and Steve's eyes snap to him.  "Clint?"  
  
"Yeah, wanna get up and stop pumping up Stark's ego?"  
  
Steve blinks at them.  "Do I want to know why I'm on the floor?"  
  
Tony actually seems apologetic when he pulls the feather from behind his back.    
  
"Oh.  I don't like feathers," Steve says quietly.  "I'm not ticklish anymore but _feathers_ , man."  He shivers.  
  
Tony rolls his eyes.  "You're no fun, Cap."  
  
Clint pops his shoulders, gives Steve a salute and tackles Tony to the floor in a tickle ambush.  "For America, asshole!"  Tony is a shitty wrestler and Clint gives epic noogies.

  
  
**Paraskavedekatriaphobia**  
  
Natasha steps out of the bathroom in her robe and realizes the bed isn't made.  The covers are still in bunches across the bed.  "It's after seven."  
  
"I took a vacation day," the blankets reply.  
  
That isn't normal.  "Why?"  
  
"I'm staying in bed.  I kept your place warm."  
  
"Steve."  
  
"It's Friday the 13th.  I'm staying here."  
  
She bites back a laugh and throws the covers back.  His arms are crossed petulantly across his bare chest.  "You're not superstitious."  
  
"No," Steve replies.  "I'm traditional.  I'm taking a personal day  You could stay, if you want to get personal with me."  
  
"You're ridiculous."  
  
He raises an eyebrow.  "Or ridiculous, we can try that, too."  
  
Natasha snorts but Steve kicks the covers down further and she sighs and reaches for her phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Sphenisciphobia: Fear of nuns  
> Hygrophobia: Fear of dampness  
> Lyssophobia: Fear of insanity  
> Pteronophobia: Fear of feathers  
> Paraskavedekatriaphobia: Fear of Friday the 13th.
> 
> (He's also afraid of otters, but that's a different story.)


End file.
